


The Other Side

by AlaisneLuciaM



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Bisexual Characters, Multi, Open Relationships, after the war, light kink, occurs shortly after the war and focuses on the Slytherins.
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-24
Updated: 2020-10-25
Packaged: 2021-03-08 17:05:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27180131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlaisneLuciaM/pseuds/AlaisneLuciaM
Summary: Five years after the war and things are only beginning to go back to normal for wizarding Britain. As the winning side enjoys triumph and basks in glory, the other side finds itself struggling to pick up the pieces. Magical Historian and author Kieran writes nonstop to warn her society that they have not fixed the problems that began the war and so they risk bringing another war on themselves and their children. But can she warn enough people while struggling through her own family problems and trauma from the war?
Relationships: Astoria Greengrass/Draco Malfoy, Blaise Zabini/OC, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, Narcissa Malfoy/Lucius Malfoy





	1. A Very Merry Birthday to You

She would get through this. She got through it every year; this year was no different. That was a lie, this year was five years, which meant that it should hurt more, that it would mean more. Tears would flow easier and faster, pain would be felt deeper, and hatred might run far more rampant. None of those thoughts stopped her hair from being perfectly coiffed, her stilettos from being the perfect middle ground between conservative and flashy, her black dress was not plain, the lace sleeves prevented anyone from claiming that, but one could never say it was too much or tacky for such an event as this. In essence she exuded wealth and that was her goal. She did not attend this event every year in place of celebrating her birthday because she felt it was a good time or even a good thing to do, she did it to send a message to all others present, and all those who would read about it in tomorrow’s Prophet.  
To match her perfect appearance, she plastered on a smile, one that hid how much it pained her to see all the happy memories she had from this place replaced with memories of fear. She hid her disgust at the way some stared at her, and she strolled forward as though nothing in the world affected her, least of all this memorial. From across the lawn a tall red-haired man, handsome despite the sadness lurking in his eyes, returned her smile, though his seemed genuine. She tilted her head, indicating he was to follow her to her standard back row seat, the same seat she took every year.  
“I can’t believe they managed to drag you away from Diagon Alley for this. It’s wonderful to see you George.” She slapped his shoulder lightly in the way old friends do.  
“Well it’s the five-year anniversary and all that.” He shrugged as though he were merely explaining his choice between tea or coffee, “I heard you come out every year.” His eyebrow raised to indicate that he was asking her why she would ever torture herself in such a way.  
“Got to promote my books somehow don’t I?” She laughed mirthlessly. In truth she was, as always regretting attending, but if her father’s wife had taught her anything it was that when one receives an invitation one does everything they can to attend, and somehow she always managed an invitation. It wasn’t as though she was lying to the man sitting beside her, her book sales did always increase a few days after the memorial.  
“I brought Gan.” He said it simply, smoothly, but she didn’t miss how he had begun to wring his hands as he spoke.  
“You did what?” She snapped at him, for once shock broke through her perfect visage, allowing emotion to shine through for a moment. Feelings of pain, deep sadness, and a certain kind of loneliness filled her as she registered what he had said and what it meant.  
“Kier he’s almost six, and Angelina and I agreed it would be good for him to be around others just as affected by what happened as he is.” George sighed.  
“He is a five-year-old George! He needed to be playing with his cousins, not attending a funeral.” She glared daggers at the man, livid that he would bring the boy, more so because it meant she may see him.  
“It’s an anniversary memorial Kier; he should know he’s not alone.”  
“It’s a war memorial.” She bit back.  
“And Gan’s a war orphan Kieran.” George threw the words at her, the full weight of them hitting her.  
“That was cruel George.” She whispered. Anyone else and she would have cursed them into oblivion for saying something like that, for making her feel so deeply as she was at that moment, but this was George, friendship as long as theirs meant something to her, as painful as it was.  
“Look he’s sitting up at the front, just say hi, let him see your face.”  
“He has a loving family. He is safe, he is happy, he is free from most burdens. If I go say hello, I won’t be able to say goodbye and that would be more damaging to him than anything else.”  
“You don’t have to say goodbye Kier.” George spoke softly, as though he was afraid of spooking her.  
“With my father coming home tomorrow? George be realistic, Gan is in just as much in danger now as he was five years ago.” Kieran felt her chest tighten. She wanted nothing more than to say hello to the little boy with a mop of auburn waves and rosy cheeks, but that would be selfish, and she refused to allow herself to be selfish at that moment.  
George nodded, placed a hand on her shoulder as he stood up, squeezed ever so lightly and walked to the front row of chairs and sat next to a beautiful woman, her dark skin shining in the evening sun, the small boy in her lap, content as he could be. Kieran nearly cried as she saw how soft the boys skin looked, how perfect his hair, how sweet he appeared. But she quickly regained control of her emotions, burying all affection for the child deep within in her, only to be taken out and inspected in the dead of night during her most melancholy times.  
As she discreetly wiped away a tear another red-haired man, much taller than George stood and began speaking to the crowd, who had all taken their seats and were attentively listening to the man in front of them. Kieran rolled her eyes as his voice soared over the collection of guests, she hated Ronald Weasley almost as much as he hated her, at least she had good reason.  
“May I say you look breathtaking as always.” A man slid into the seat that George had vacated.  
“Alloysius Venable, how not lovely to see you too.” Kieran gave the man a sickly-sweet smile.  
“Dear it was over a year ago, let by-gones be by-gones.” He returned the smile.  
“You accused me of stealing research Alloysius, you could have cost me the book.” Kieran distinctly recalled the scathing articles he had written about her most recent book, and how much it had hurt sales.  
“There’s no such thing as bad press my dear.” Kieran chose to ignore the man and instead focused on the bullshit coming out of Ronald’s mouth. The Gryffindor was discussing unity during the war as if he knew what that meant, he had spent most of the war camping for Merlin’s sake.  
“We all came together. We joined as one to defeat evil, to make our society better, for the future.” He glanced down at the small boy in Angelina’s arms and Kieran felt her blood boil.  
She stood up, a small piece of hair coming out of her the bun at the back of her head, framing her face. “And what of the Slytherins locked in the dungeons during the battle? What of the prejudice, and hatred faced by anyone who dares to wear green and silver? What of the children you expected to raise a wand against their parents? You lot wouldn’t understand unity even if you were tolerant of it.” Kieran snapped at Ron; her face flushed with anger that they would dare try to pat themselves on their backs for being unified.  
“The majority of those killed five years ago today, those we honor, who we lost were killed by Slytherins.” Ron bellowed at her.  
“We lost people too, a human life is a human life regardless of what horrors it has committed. In any case you tell someone their evil long enough and they’ll believe it.”  
“Call a spade a spade.” Ron’s voice had quieted but his anger still quelled just below the surface.  
“Then don’t come running to any of us when you lot start another war.” Kieran began walking away from the seated group, wanting nothing more than to be as far away from the hypocrites as she could be, but before she apparated away she spun around, “You learnt nothing from the war, you sit there and want to honor the dead but yet to allow them to have died in vain. Be the better people, mend what the war destroyed, don’t make the divisions worse.” She turned in a circle, apparating away from the service. She figured this had cost her that reliable invitation for next year, but she couldn’t find it within her to mind, she knew of a better party anyway. 

Blaise Zabini lived alone, and for good reason. He enjoyed a wide variety of men and women, of food and drink, and of every entertainment one could imagine. For the past four years he had held a spectacular party, both in honor of his fiancée’s birthday but also in honor of the desperate need he and his friends felt for a distraction every May 2nd. And so, every year he packed his house with as many people as he could, as much alcohol as he could, and as much hedonistic pleasure as he could.  
Blaise had been enjoying his sixth cocktail made by the lovely Pansy Parkinson when his fiancée appeared in the middle of his sitting room, looking as though she wanted to kill the closest living thing. He raised his eyebrow at her, “I thought the memorial lasted another hour love.”  
“Couldn’t stand the self-righteous dribble any longer.” She explained, looking far more exhausted than her twenty-three years should have made her. Pansy handed her a glass of fire whiskey, which Kieran gladly downed in one gulp. Pansy took the cup from Kieran and pulled her in for a deep, intimate kiss. The two women pulled apart after a delightful minute of embrace.  
“You looked like you needed that.” Pansy smirked at her.  
“I most definitely did, but I’m not quite sure that fixed everything for me.” Kieran smiled, a genuine smile this time, at her best friend. Pansy went in for another kiss but just as their lips met Blaise coughed lightly.  
“Ladies, please, no torture for me tonight.”  
“Oh, but you do so love being tortured darling.” Kieran smirked at him.  
He returned the smirk with a warning look, “But not by you love, I believe I do the torturing in that regard.”  
Kieran kept her smile, attempting to look more innocent than she had ever been in her life, but her eyes began searching the room, looking for a specific blonde brooding man. “Where’s Draco?”  
“Last I saw he was carrying a bottle to his room, alone.” Blaise added the last part pointedly. Kieran sighed, wanting with ever fiber of her being to just melt into someone’s arms and being taken care of and distracted, but she knew she needed to check on Draco, lest he succumb to alcohol poisoning. Blaise stood and placed his hand on the back of her neck, slowly pulling the pins out of her hair, causing wave after wave to come tumbling down to rest just above her hips. “You should check on him, I’ll see you after.” He weaved his hand into her now loose hair and pulled her face to meet his. He kissed her with just as much passion as Pansy had, though with an added possessiveness that Pansy never managed to do. Kieran groaned as he pulled them apart.  
She sighed, “Later. I’ll go make sure he doesn’t need his stomach pumped.” She pulled away and turned to go up the stairs to find Draco.  
She found him standing on the balcony attached to the room he always took over when they stayed at Blaise’s. Kieran slapped the back of his head, “What’re you doing away from the party?”  
“Not in the mood.” He emphasized his point by taking a swig of whiskey.  
“At least you didn’t have to listen to Weasley speak earlier.” She bumped his shoulder with her own while stealing the bottle and taking a drink herself.  
“You choose to go you’re not allowed to complain about the consequences.” He stole the bottle back from her. His small smile faded, “I’ll be home tomorrow.”  
“You don’t have to. He’s being released into my custody not yours.”  
“What kind of man would I be if I abandoned you to deal with him alone?”  
“The kind you were at fifteen.” She teased him, wanting desperately to not dwell on the destruction of everything she held dear that was soon to follow after noon tomorrow.  
He scowled at her and took another drink, “He’ll be far angrier with me than you.”  
“But I have so much more to prove.” Kieran sighed, “To him, to society, to the ministry. I’m going to drown under the pressure Draco.”  
“You won’t.” He said simply, matter-of-factly, “You’ve been through worse than what waits us tomorrow. He has no power anymore; we hold all of it. We’ll be fine.” His bravado, false though it was comforted her.  
“We better enjoy tonight in any case.” Kieran led him away from the balcony and to the door that led to the corridor. Once they were in the corridor, she turned to him and smiled sweetly, “Tell Blaise I’ll be in his room.”  
He called after her as she headed in the opposite direction of the stairs, “You’re evil.”  
She looked back at him and smirked, “Naturally.”


	2. A Little Fall of Rain

Kieran woke the next morning groaning at the sunlight streaming through the small cracks in the curtains. She looked to her left at the sleeping form spread out, taking more than half of the bed. _‘Such like a boy’_ she thought as she leaned down to kiss him on the cheek. Blaise stirred slightly but stayed dead to the world as she lifted her wrist to examine the watch there. Her eyes widened and she threw the blankets off herself once the time registered, fifteen after eleven. She should have been home hours ago to get ready for _him_ coming home, and here she was, laying in bed, sleeping far past an acceptable time. She grabbed her dress and heels from the night before where she had carefully folded them and quickly slipped into the dress. She sighed in exasperation as the zipper stuck, but a quick wave of her wand finished the job, and she was able to apparate back into her bedroom at home.

Once the world righted itself again she groaned, seeing Narcissa sitting delicately on her bed, “You know that dress does look lovely on you, when it hasn’t spent the night on someone else’s bedroom floor.”

“Narcissa.” Kieran rolled her eyes as she threw her heels on the floor and began pulling a pair of fitted black slacks and green button-down blouse from her wardrobe.

“Your father comes home in less than an hour and you’re just now finding it appropriate to appear, at least Draco had the decency to spend the night in his own bed.”

“Blame it on a difference in raising, now would you please let me change clothes and do something with my hair.” Kieran began pulling her dress off as Narcissa gracefully stood and left the room, allowing Kieran to sigh in relief. Normally Narcissa cared very little about Kieran’s indiscretion and absolute disregard for normal pureblood customs, but as the date of her father’s arrival inched closer and closer, she had become more anxious and stricter. It was a poor attempt at turning Kieran into the proper young lady she should have been trained to be, but it was an attempt nonetheless.

Kieran waved her wand and her hair righted itself, forming a neat plait down her back. She pulled on the clothing she had grabbed from her wardrobe and inspected herself in the mirror. She slipped on a pair of short black boots and called it good enough, she was attempting to no longer care what her father thought after all.

Kieran’s room was a quick walk down a corridor and down the back servants stairs to the kitchen and it was in there that she found a steaming cup of coffee and plate of pastry at her standard spot at the breakfast table. “Thank you Emildh! It looks lovely.” Kieran smiled at the elf who was pouring another cup of coffee and placing it at Draco’s place, “And please let me know if you need help setting up that vault at Gringotts we discussed.”

“You’re most welcome Miss, but if it’s alright with you Miss, Emildh would like to keep the gold in her own place, Emildh doesn’t trust it in a bank.” The elf dragged her toe across the floor in front of her.

“Of course, Emildh, it’s your money, you do with it however you please.” Kieran kept the warm smile on her face, simply glad they weren’t once again arguing over the elf taking the money at all. Kieran had been trying to pay her, give her days off, and all together attempt to bring the elf out of slavery since she had come home after the war, but the battle against house elf cultural norms was an uphill one, and it had only been recently that the elf agreed to take a wage for her labor. Kieran didn’t want to flat out free her since she knew how traumatizing and isolating that could be for an elf, and once she had convinced Emildh of her own worth she planned on broaching that particular conversation but she had to be careful.

Draco stubbled down the back stairs, holding his head in his hands, his suit all but completely in disarray. He fell into his seat and drank deeply from the cup in front of him. “Emildh would you please get the hangover potion from the cabinet?” Kieran asked.

The elf nodded and hurried to retrieve the potion from the cabinet at the far end of the kitchen where all their pre-made potions were stored. The elf hurried back and placed it in front of Draco who grabbed it and swallowed it in one go. Kieran gave him a pointed look and he quickly turned to the elf, “Thank you Emildh.”

It had been almost as difficult training Draco to treat the elf not as a slave but as a helper around the house as it had been convincing the elf of the same thing. But as difficult as it had been Draco was doing much better, just not in a hungover state. The two sat in silence, each consumed fully by their own thoughts about the same man. They had both built successful careers and lives in the years after the war, Draco as an up and coming healer following his brief house arrest, and Kieran as a magical historian and author. She had published two books and had another in progress. Despite their success they knew that _he_ would disapprove of their careers. Draco should be heavily involved in the ministry, a finger in every pie and more power than he knew what to do with, and Kieran should have been a married socialite, a respected member of pureblood society.

“He’s going to be angry.” Draco sighed, finally breaking the silence.

“Let him be angry. He shouldn’t even be out of prison, able to have a say in his own life let alone ours.” Kieran scoffed.

“Twelve years house arrest? It’s a steep punishment.”

“Draco, he killed people, he participated in attempted genocide. Twelve years house arrest is nothing.”

“You’re the one who fought for his release, why defend him at is trial if you didn’t want him home.”

“Because this way I can be the one torturing him.” Kieran stood and took her cup to the sink and set it down. “Because I convinced the ministry I could rehabilitate him, rehabilitate them all.”

“Why not just give up on him?”

“They shouldn’t die in vain. We rehabilitate the Deatheaters we prove we learned from the war; we prove that we didn’t let them die for nothing.” Kieran left the kitchen, heading up a small flight of stairs into the dining room. Across the dining room she passed into the front foyer where she found Narcissa already standing at the door, hands folded tightly in front of her. Draco followed quickly, just in time for a loud banging to cause Narcissa to jump slightly. Emildh appeared in front of them and opened the door to reveal the once boy-who-lived and their father, Lucius Malfoy.

“He’s not to have access to any magic, except life saving potions. He’s not to leave the grounds for any reason, except when his life is at risk. If any rules are broken then he will immediately be put back in Azkaban and you,” Potter stopped his monologue of rules to pointedly look at Kieran, “will face a steep fine. Once a month you are to report on his rehabilitation progress at the auror’s office.” Lucius was sat relaxed, surveying the room from his favorite winged back chair, looking every bit the cat that ate the canary. “Any questions?” Potter finished.

“One. How’d you get stuck as the one to bring him here?” Kieran smirked at Potter from across her glass of whiskey.

“I’m the one who vouched for you.” He answered her bluntly.

“Very well. Anything else while you’re here? Want to illegally search the house again?” Draco glared at Potter, venom lacing his voice.

“That was over two years ago.”

“Yes, and it is screw ups like that, blatant disregard for our rights as private citizens that will lead to people not rejoining society.” Kieran pointed out, defending her half-brother’s idiotic comment.

“Yes, and,” Potter mocked, “outbursts at memorial services don’t endear you to many people either.”

“Terribly sorry my tolerance for bullshit as decreased since leaving Hogwarts.” Kieran rolled her eyes, “Now is there anything else you need or are we just being blessed with your glorious presence?”

“That’s all, I’ll see myself out. Thanks.” He nodded to Narcissa and turned on his heel and left the sitting room, leaving only the Malfoy’s to become reacquainted with their patriarch.

“And so, my rehabilitation begins?” Lucius asked lazily, his voice slightly mocking as his glanced up at his daughter, “Kieran, get me a glass of scotch.”

Kieran scoffed, “You’ve got two working hands, get your own glass.”

“Excuse me?” Lucius remained calm, though his voice had lost its lazy tone, replaced by an edge of warning.

“Get. It. Yourself.” Kieran emphasized each word slowly before finishing her own glass.

“I demand respect in my own home.”

“You will demand nothing. You’re lucky I even deigned to get you out of prison.”

“That was your duty to this family, I owe you nothing.”

“How dare you speak to me of duty to this family. You wouldn’t even acknowledge me as a member of this family until I was seventeen and your precious dark lord needed me. The only reason any of you are sitting here is because I never bought into your bullshit and when it came down to it I did the right thing, risked my own life, and then put my own reputation, fragile as it was, on the line to get you lot easy sentences.” Kieran began pacing angrily, all of her hatred of her father coming to a boil.

“Kier’s right father, she’s taken a lot of heat for us.” Draco spoke up, his voice barely above a whisper.

“I am still the head of this family. Now Narcissa, what is the state of our affairs?”

Kieran slammed her glass down and stormed from the room, angry beyond belief at her father and in complete belief that there was no hope of rehabilitating him.

_Father is in prison. Father is in prison. Kieran knew she should be devastated, angry, saddened at the very least by the news of her father’s arrest at the Ministry, but she couldn’t do anything to stop the smile that spread across her face. Draco looked at her disgustedly, horrified that she could be happy at this moment. All Kieran could think about was freedom. She had freedom to do as she pleased. She could listen to music loudly, wear shorts that showed far too much of her leg, she could quit straightening her hair to fit in with the rest of the family, she could dance and sing, she could openly be friends with her friends in other houses. She was sixteen, her father was in prison, and for the first time in her life she could do whatever she pleased._

_As soon as they arrived home she ran to her room and threw on her favorite tank top and shorts, clothing she never dared to wear at home, clothing she normally gave to Pansy to hide at her house for the summer. Kieran grabbed a handful of floo powder and threw it into the fireplace in her room, shouting the name of Blaise’s summer home in the south of Italy. She appeared in his sitting room, no one else in the room. She ran to where she remembered his room being and barged in to find him laying on the bed, looking straight at the door as though he expected her to come storming in._

_“Let’s have a party.” She jumped on the bed; her legs tucked under her._

_“A party? What are we celebrating?” Blaise laughed at her enthusiasm._

_“My father being locked up!” She collapsed next to him._

_“I doubt Draco will want to celebrate that.”_

_“Then we won’t tell him that’s what we’re doing. We’ll just say it’s a start of summer holiday celebration. C’mon Blaise please.” She pouted, mimicking what Pansy did anytime she wanted something from one of the boys._

_Blaise groaned, “I suppose, we do have a full wine cellar and mother is off on her honeymoon in the Canary Islands.”_

_“Thank you! I’ll send owls to everyone while you figure out how much food we’re going to need to lay out.”_

_A few months later and back at school Kieran was still drunk on freedom. She was also drunk on plenty of alcohol she had sneaked past Filch at the start of term. She was also currently enveloped in a cloud of smoke and underneath a very handsome Ravenclaw sixth year. He was very good looking, and had he been sober he might have made her look back on this night in fond memory, however due to the mix of substances they had both taken, and the fact that she had been sleeping her way steadily through the houses she found he was failing rather miserable at giving her anything resembling a good time. She sighed and pushed up on his arms, instigating a roll that placed her on top. He grinned rather stupidly at her, ironic considering his house, as she began to take control. She really preferred to let her partner be in charge, something she was guaranteed with the Slytherins what with them all being power hungry bastards, but she didn’t mind taking control if it meant a better lay. He finished quickly and she slid off of him, grabbing the almost forgotten bottle next to them._

_“That was amazing. I need to get with Slytherin girls more often.” The boy, she honestly could not remember his name grinned at her._

_“Glad I could help our reputation.” She took a swig from the bottle to hide her eyes rolling. Kieran was already planning on which Slytherin she could convince to help her salvage the night, no need to give in and let it be a complete bust._

_He sat up and began looking around for his uniform. She held up his trousers that had been tossed onto the floor next to her bed. He took it from her with a nod. She sighed and swung her legs off the side of the bed, grabbing her own jumper and trousers. She pulled them on and stood up, “You can find your way, out right? I’m going down to the common room.”_

_“Of course. Er, thanks I guess?” He looked at her confused._

_“Great, see you around.” She sent him a fake smile and turned and left him alone in her room, maybe if he got lucky one of her roommates would wander in and be more involved than she was._

_She took the stairs two at a time and jumped the last three. From there she made her way quickly to the comfiest sofa in the common room and plopped herself down on the cushions. She had barely settled when a familiar frame joined her._

_“And how is tonight’s conquest?” Blaise teased her._

_“Shhh! I can’t have Draco hearing or else word will get to my father somehow.” Kieran smacked him on the arm._

_He held up his hands in surrender, “Alright, but don’t worry about him, he’s off with Crabbe doing that super-secret project.”_

_Kieran’s face fell at that news. As much as she had consumed herself with drink and sex, Draco had consumed himself with his task from the Dark Lord. Blaise’s eyebrow creeped up his forehead, giving her a pointed look. She looked over her shoulder and saw the Ravenclaw boy hurry past and out of the common room._

_“What? He’s pretty.” She answered his unspoken question._

_“There are plenty of prettier people who would leave you more satisfied.” Blaise put a hand on her leg._

_“And how do you know he didn’t leave me satisfied?” Kieran asked haughtily, refraining from reacting to his hand on her body._

_“Because your hair looks far too neat.” He answered plainly._

_“I could have fixed it after the fact.”_

_“Oh? Then how do you explain the way you tensed up when I touched you?”_

_She glared at him._

_“It’s not as though we haven’t already…” He trailed off as his other hand slid up her arm, around her neck and fixed itself in her hair at the nape of her neck._

_She nodded slightly, then took her wand and waved it over herself, removing all effects of the alcohol she had been consuming. It was one of Blaise’s many rules, they both had to be sober and remain sober. He was the only one who took such considerations, and she couldn’t help but allow it to touch her deeply that he did so. It made her feel worth something, something she never felt with anyone else._

Kieran had decided to take a walk through the gardens to calm down. Narcissa had done a beautiful job with the topiary and Kieran found that being about in nature centered her in ways nothing else did. She breathed in the fresh air, her eyes feasting on the colors of all the flowers blossoming around her. She stepped off the gravel path and into the maze of hedges that was a relatively new addition to the garden. She strolled through, letting her hand run over the rough leaves and branches surrounding her. She closed her eyes and let the wind whip around her, enveloping her in it it’s protection. “Tha mi gad ionndrainn” _I miss you_. She whispered the Gaelic words like a prayer, not wanting to disturb her surroundings. She could smell rain on the air, she inhaled the comforting scent deeply, feeling peace wash over her, a calmness coming to her spirit. She felt drops of heavy water hit her face, falling all around her. She placed her hands in front of her, her palms facing the sky, she embraced the rain, began spinning, dancing in it. Soon enough she was drenched, her hair sopping wet and sticking to her face and back. Despite the summer rain falling around her Kieran felt a weight off her shoulders and her breathing came easier. The weight of her soaked clothing was nothing now that her fears had been taken away, if only for a few moments. 

She heard footsteps behind her, running. “Kier what the bloody hell are you doing.” Draco’s voice ripped through the peace and comfort. 

“Just enjoying the rain Draco, you should try it sometime.” She knew he wouldn’t find the same love she did in the rain, but he would at least find the calmness in the storm.

“Father wants to speak with you.” Instantly the happiness was gone and replaced by the weight she had felt earlier. 

“Very well.” She turned and followed Draco back up to the house, “I suppose what Father wants Father will get.” She scowled as Draco silently walked beside her, providing little in the way of support.


End file.
